Rigorous and Thorough
by DeFier
Summary: Oh, the joys of playing with subtext.  Luke Atmey x Adrian Andrews


_**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Phoenix Wright/Gyakuten Saiban or any of the characters or places in it which are or may be mentioned in the following fanfiction. PW/GS belongs to Capcom. _

_But rest assured, if I did, this is the sort of madness I would use it for._

_(Story rated for Sexual Themes, Hetero, Subtext Abuse, and sheer Crack Fun. Oh, and mild language on the part of the Author's Note..) _

_Also, there are implied spoilers for Phoenix Wright: Trials and Tribulations, but they're fairly... masked._

_- - - - -_

Her eyes blinked open wearily to stare into the darkness of the surrounding room. For a moment, everything—her location, her responsibilities, even her sense of self—was forgotten in that sweet swell of amnesia that comes with awakening, but in an instant it all returned to her. Along with the memory of the night before. She was immersed in the soft, crisp sheets of a hotel bed, the same as she had been for the past several hours. On the nightstand next to her, the red numbers of a digital clock burned through the shadows and told her that she still had a good few hours before she had to truly get up and ready herself for the day.

However, the woman knew she could not sleep again now that she had awoken this early. She slipped her bare legs out over the bed's side and stepped lightly onto the carpet. The fibers tickled her feet ever so slightly as she reached for the thin bathrobe draped across a nearby chair. As she carefully pulled it on over her exposed body, she cast a glance back over her shoulder at the remaining lump in the bed sheets. She struggled to focus in the dark, and without her glasses, but the protuberance was close enough in proximity to her that she could faintly make out the gentle rise and fall of breathing. Was he still asleep? Somehow she doubted it, now that she was moving around.

But she did not bother him. It would have been rude, whether he was pretending to sleep or not. Besides, she knew he needed the rest. With a suppressed giggle at the thought of the trials she had put him through, the woman plucked the oval frames of eyeglasses away from their resting place next to the clock on the table and placed them charily on the bridge of her nose. Then she circumnavigated the bed, gazed once more at the mass of sheets where he lay curled up, hidden from view from his own embarrassment, most likely, and then continued into the bathroom. The door closed with a click behind her, followed by a flash of light from beneath the doorframe and the sound of running water.

The light was barely visible through the blankets, but it irritated his eyes all the same. He started to roll over in the bed, but the ache of fatigue tore through his body as he attempted to move. Reluctantly he ceased, with an agitated, but quiet, sigh. There was a reason he had not moved since falling into this comfortable position.

The things he did for love! Or had done to him, he thought with what would have been a shudder if he had been able to move. He had stolen away to this hotel with a woman he barely knew and allowed her to… Control him, so to speak, just to get a job. The end justifies the means, he repeated in his mind. "The end justifies the means." He spoke in barely above a whisper; he didn't want to attract her attention again, at least not yet.

Yes, a job. An important job, however. Quite important. He absolutely needed this job, actually. It was vital to everything now. Everything he had going for him was about to collapse in one massive, hideous apocalypse. His only chance of survival, and the survival of the empire he had built for himself, lay in the acquiring of this job—even if he would be considered a lowly "security guard" while he had it. The end justifies the means. As long as she hired him he would remain in the spotlight he so longed for.

This woman… From the moment he met her he had realized what a curse she was. She wanted to feel like she had control over something, because she obviously had no control over herself. It had been her idea to retreat here, to this hotel room, for the evening. She was considering hiring him, she had told him, but she had to be certain that he could endure all kinds of difficulties before she would. She would take no chances when it came to the security of her exhibit. Her image flashed across his mind, golden, bespectacled, and so innocent that she had to be anything but. _I have to warn you, I'm quite rigorous and thorough._ Rigorous and thorough indeed! The compromising positions she had put him in were only trials because of how humiliated he felt as he struggled against her will.

Simply put, the woman had taken him to bed and told him that his only task was to prove he could handle anything thrown at him. Namely, he had to show her that he was, indeed, a man, and he had to end up dominating her rather than she him. Quite the straightforward task. He had, he recalled, actually been a bit excited at the idea. Not even he, though, could have foreseen the Amazon hidden beneath the angel of that woman! She had tied him down, tried to make an escape artist out of him. And then she had proceeded to perform a number of frightening and awkward operations at his expense… He decided to block out the exact details from his memory, for his own benefit. It must have dragged on for hours, his humiliation, before he finally caught her and bent her to his own devices. She was quick and surprisingly strong, despite her small stature. By the time he had completed his task he had been on the brink of collapsing, and nearly gave up on winning several times before desperation had kicked in and given him the needed drive to triumph. Due to this he now lay curled in a vulnerable ball beneath the bed mantle, sore and utterly exhausted.

The faucet's gentle chorus ceased, and his body grew tense. The light from the bathroom was extinguished; the door opened softly and the young lady returned to the bedside. He tried to fake sleep and managed to give himself a brief sense of false security, but inside he knew that she was well aware of his consciousness. Pressure made the mattress dip beside him, meaning that she had sat back down on the bed. Her eyes watched his anxious form. Hesitantly, she began to stretch her arm towards him. At the feel of her fingertips on his shoulder, he reflexively tried to draw himself further inward and subsequently gave himself away. Now she knew for certain that he was no longer sleeping. The woman scooted closer to him and draped her arm around his body, pulling him into an awkward hug. Having her cling to him caused his stomach to turn. That vile temptress! It wasn't fair that she could make him into the same sort of wreck that she was.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I didn't want to wake you; I was worried you still needed to rest, so I tried to be quiet when I got up." He couldn't see her in the dark (not that he was even looking in her direction), but she blushed as she spoke. She really was looking out for his well-being.

"I'll recover eventually," he muttered. "It takes more than the wiles of a fiery young lady to keep Luke Atmey down."

"I'm sure it does…" She smiled and let out a soft laugh. Luke Atmey cringed. "Really, though, you surprised me last night. For a while, I was worried that you wouldn't make the par for my standards. …N-Not that I mean anything against you, personally, it's just that I really can't take any chances in this situation! Like I told you, I'm quite rigorous and thorough when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Yes, I know," he retorted. She drew back a little, then smiled again and pulled him closer.

"Please don't be angry with me, Detective Atmey…" she said quietly. "I'm only doing my job."

"And I mine, Ms. Andrews," responded Atmey abruptly. His body throbbed as she moved him, but it hurt worse to resist. "That is, if you agree to hire me. As I'm sure you will. My… performance may have caused you to doubt at first, but take note that I did indeed 'make the par,' in the end. According to this rule, you now have to allow me to guard your treasure exhibit. You set down this rule yourself, Ms. Andrews. Naturally, you will be expected to follow it."

"You sound so eager," Adrian Andrews giggled. The detective looked back over his shoulder at her. What was funny about the way he acted? "Very well, then. You're right; I did make that rule, and you did win out in the end." Adrian nuzzled his shoulder tenderly. "I have to hire you now."

Triumph! At last, sweet, glorious triumph was his. Detective Atmey closed his eyes and smirked. "Zvarri! Just as I deduced. It was only natural, of course, that you should hire me. I am Mask☆DeMasque's arch-rival, after all. Who, may I ask, is better suited to this task? If not Ace Detective Luke Atmey, then who else?"

"I know, but I had to be absolutely certain you could handle it… We're not even sure if Mask☆DeMasque is going to strike the Treasure Exhibit yet, don't forget."

"Peh," said Atmey next to her. "I am sure. I am absolutely, one hundred percent positive that he will. He will _attempt_ to strike, that is. And when he does, he will be forced to answer to Luke Atmey… Ace Detective."

Adrian closed her eyes and sighed whimsically. He was such an odd man. Indeed, a quirk if there ever was one, but he was going to be there for her, she knew. He was making it his objective to go out of his way and protect her treasure exhibit. For that, Adrian was eternally grateful. Gingerly her fingers stroked the bare flesh of his naked shoulder. The detective's attention shot to this fact immediately, but before he could speak Adrian whispered, "You know, we still have a few hours before I have to officially hire you, detective…" She slid her hand up his neck and caught his cheek, then gently turned his head to face her. His eyes were wide with anticipation and, to Adrian's amusement, a dash of alarm. "Maybe you'd like to… reinforce my decision, so to speak?"

"A-Ah, Ms. Andrews," he stammered, then wanted to hit himself for getting so worked up. "I can't… My body doesn't seem to want to move at my command at this moment, you see…"

"Well, you're talking to me," she mused. "That means you can move your tongue fairly easily… I would think that's all you need to be able to move."

Her expression was so sweet and pure that it instilled mortal terror inside of Detective Atmey. He started to edge away from her, but, just as he had tried to excuse himself, his body proved unresponsive. He sighed vainly. The things he went through for love.

For his own sake! He corrected himself. Rigorous and thorough indeed.

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_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** OTP crack fun. So is the fate of a Sh1n1Drabble. Also, Luke Atmey is totally the bottom bitch._


End file.
